The Lost Origin
by amante3456
Summary: Men and women from every race, warriors and mages, barbarians and kings..." Grey Wardens come from every corner of the world to protect it from the darkness. This is the story of the one origin that never came to be, the scrapped Barbarian Origin.


Six Origin stories that made it to the final cut of the game, but at least two were scrapped at the drawing board. The Human Commoner Origin was developed pretty far, and even shows up in one of the demo videos, but it didn't make the game. The Human Barbarian Origin, on the other hand, was one that was dropped early, but the background of the Avvar Barbarians still exists in the game. Using what little legend and backstory I could from the game and a lot of my own creation, I am bringing the Barbarian Origin to life.

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"The Frostback Mountain Range is the one of the harshest places in Fereldan, if not all of Thedas. They are considered inhospitable, and yet, a small few still make their home here. You live amongst a small clan of the hardy Avvar barbarians. Strength is necessary to survive in the Frostbacks, so you often spend your days training with your brother. In this ever-changing environment, stability is an unknown, and resilience determines life or death."

Wind howls as it whips through the pine trees. Cold air and ice nips at the faces of two barbarians. The snow crunches under their boots. The two welcome the freezing breeze, silently thanking Hakkon for his blessing in their hunt. They move swiftly through the forest, familiar with every tree, every rock, and every corner of the Frostbacks. Their fur and leather clothing allows them to blend with the forest. Ahead of them, a large buck grazes on a small amount of foliage. The male barbarian unsheathes his dagger, while the female steadies her bow. She pulls back the arrow, and carefully took aim. No mistakes can be made. One missed shot would alert the deer, causing it to flee. That would mean the clan goes with another meal. Anything less than perfection is unacceptable. It is harsh, but so are the Frostbacks. The female slowly inhales, and as she exhales, her fingers release the arrow. It soars, cutting through the frozen air. The arrowhead buries deep into the buck's hindquarters. It makes a pained noise. As it turns to flee, it is cut off by the male barbarian, who pounced on the creature like a mountain cat and slashed its neck with his dagger. Blood stains the snow, as the male begins to gut the deer.

"Excellent work Kyla. Korth blessed us today." He smiled up at the female.

"Yes, the clan will be happy with this hunt. This buck might last a few meals, you think Rykus?" Kyla sat down in the snow next to her brother. He laughed softly,

"Not if Father gets his hands on it." Kyla smiled at the jest at their pot-bellied father. Rykus looked over at her, and his smile dropped to a more serious face.

"You have become very skilled with bow and dagger, bayna." He said, using an Avvar pet-name. "You are better than most of the warriors in the clan." Rykus smiled proudly at his younger sister and clapped her on the back. A lock of brown hair fell into her face. Rykus scratched at his short beard. They fell into a content silence, as Rykus continued to clean the deer. Kyla closed her eyes and breathed in the chilled air, taking in the forest. A soft crack of a twig came from behind the barbarians. Kyla jumped to her feet, swirling and drawing her bow in one motion. A dark-skinned, bearded man stood before her. The long black cloak he wore did not hide his shining armor, or his weapons. He held up his hands in surrender, but Kyla did not lower her weapon. Rykus pointed his still bloody dagger at the man.

"You do not belong here Denath!" He barked. The man's face screwed up in confusion.

"Denath?" He asked, his voice soft and without fear.

"It is Avvar for mainlanders, and we don't take kindly to them. Who are you, and what is your business so far into the Frostbacks?" Kyla asked as her aim never wavered. The man crossed his arms over his chest, a common Fereldan greeting.

"My name is Duncan. I am a Grey Warden. I have come here to talk to your leader." Rykus moved closer, still holding out his dagger.

"For what purpose?" He growled.

"That is my business." Duncan replied sternly. Rykus finally lowered his dagger, but did not remove the glare from his eyes.

"Fine. We will bring you to the Agor, but if you bring bad tidings Denath, I will have your head." He threatened. Duncan nodded.

"I assure you, that will not be necessary." Rykus picked up the buck and heaved it over his shoulder. He led the group back to the village. Kyla hung back, just behind Duncan, watching him with one hand ready for her sword. Duncan caught her gaze.

"May I ask you a question?" He asked softly. Kyla only nodded. "This man spoke of the Agor. I assume that is Avvar for your leader?"

"Yes, but the Agor is not just our leader. He is our healer too, a shaman. I believe the Denath call his kind an… apostate?" Kyla replied.

"He's a mage? I did not expect that." Duncan said, shock clear on his face.

"Oh? Why not?" Kyla asked.

"The Avvar are known for their prowess as warriors. I simply assumed your leader would also be a warrior."

"You are not entirely wrong. The Agor does not use his magic much in battle, as I said he is a healer, nothing more. The Agor is a great warrior as well. Do mages in the mainland not fight?" She asked curiously.

"Mages of old used to, the Arcane Warriors. But there are few, if any remaining." Duncan explained to the young Avvar. The mainland was such a strange and interesting land, but certainly not a place for the barbarian. Duncan was an exception to the Denath, most treated the Avvar as if they were no more than the beasts that share the Frostbacks with them.

The group reached the end of the path, as the forest opened out to the village. Small, moss and snow covered buildings circled the opening. In the center of the village stood three tall statues, symbolizing the three Avvar gods, Korth the Mountain-Father, Hakkon Wintersbreath, and the Lady of the Skies. The three statues circled around a training ring, where young barbarians were play fighting with wooden swords. A few villagers walked about, all clad in similar fur and leather clothing, each carrying a weapon. They all watched as the two Avvar led the foreign man through the village. It was clear they distrusted strangers.

Rykus walked up to one house that was decorated with furs and gems obviously found in the mountain. He pushed back the fur that replaced a door. The three walked in, and before them sat the Agor. He was an elderly man, but his strength was evident. He wore thick leather armor and a bear skin, which was draped like a cloak. He carried a battleaxe that was clearly of dwarven-make. He bowed his head towards the group, then scratched his white beard as he observed Duncan.

"What can I do for you stranger?" He asked, his voice gruff. Duncan greeted him in his usual gesture.

"I wish to speak to you in private, if at all possible." Duncan replied, and the Agor looked to the siblings, motioning his head to the doorway. They took their leave and re-entered the cold air. Rykus brought the deer carcass to the cooks of the clan. They smiled widely at the buck, gracious for another meal. The siblings walked through the town, greeting their clan-mates. Every house in the village was made to be easily and quickly disassembled and moved. The winds changed often in the mountains, and the Avvar had to be prepared for wherever it would carry them, and whatever it threw at them. Rykus pushed the door open to their family hut.

"Father we are back!" He called as they entered their home. Father poked his head around the corner of one room.

"My children!" He smiled as he moved to pull them both into a hug. Kyla giggled as her father's beard tickled her face. "How was your hunt?" He asked.

"Successful Father. You should have seen your daughter. She is becoming quite the archer." Rykus took a seat as he talked. Father's face brightened.

"Aye? And the bow isn't even your weapon of choice." He spoke proudly. Kyla laughed.

"No, Father. I much prefer close combat. To look my opponent in the eye before I kill him." She said, swinging an invisible weapon for effect. He laughed, his deep voice booming.

"Your mother was the same way, my daughter." He said, pulling her into another hug. Rykus smirked from his seat.

"It's a wonder you can even pick up the weapons you use Bayna. The greatswords and battleaxes are just as large as you." Rykus laughed. Kyla made a face at him in jest.

"Now, now, you two. Rykus, surely you remember the tale of the Ptarmigan?" Father started. Rykus groaned loudly.

"How can we forget? You've told us this tale thousands of times." He complained. "Hell, you call Kyla your 'Little Ptarmigan.'" Kyla felt a small blush burn her cheeks.

"Good, then you can start." Father ignored his whining. Rykus sighed deeply.

"A long long time ago, Korth…took his heart out…or something." He stumbled. Father shook his head.

"When the world was still young, Korth, our Mountain-Father, sat atop his throne at the peak of the Belenas, the mountain at the center of the land. He watched down on the people across the world, watched as strong men became weak, brave men grew cowardly, and wise men turned foolish for love." He restarted for Rykus, and then looked to Kyla. She took over the next part.

"Korth saw this as a weakness, and removed his own heart to prevent it from betraying him. He sealed it in a golden cask, buried it, and created the most dangerous and fierce mountains around it. These mountains are our Frostbacks. Korth, without a heart, grew bitter like the winter wind. He created avalanches and earthquakes to torture the people. Everyone thought Korth to be a tyrant, and gods and mortals alike tried to rise up against him, but without a heart he could not be killed. The Lady of the Skies sent her children to search for Korth's heart, but even the greatest and swiftest bird came up empty."

"Then the tiny Ptarmigan spoke up. She said she would retrieve the Mountain-Father's heart. The other birds laughed at the notion. The ptarmigan was too tiny, they thought, and preferred hopping on the ground to flying. The Lady of the Skies could not give the tiny bird her blessing, because not even the strongest fliers could handle the mountains. But the Ptarmigan set off anyways." Father took over, smiling softly at his daughter, "When the Ptarmigan could not fly, she walked, enduring the worst winter winds. She made it to the valley where the god's great heart beat, but the tiny bird could not lift it, for it was too full from Korth's terrible deeds. So the Ptarmigan pushed it, inch by inch, through the valley and off a cliff. The golden cask broke, and the pain of the heart's fullness aroused Korth's attention. As he neared his heart, it leapt back into his chest and he was once again whole. Hakkon Wintersbreath bound Korth's chest with three bands of iron and three of ice, so it could never be removed again. The Ptarmigan was honored above even the noblest of eagles." Father finished.

"Thank you Father." Kyla said smiling. Rykus groaned.

"Yes, thank you. Now we've heard it a thousand and one too many times."

"There are many lessons to be learned from that tales Rykus." Father scoffed. "Even the small can be strong."

"Korth believed our hearts were a weakness. He learned that acting without a heart is the true weakness, for we are not whole without it." Kyla added.

"Very true, my Ptarmigan." Father beamed, mussing up her brown hair, causing the few dreads to bounce about. Just then, a scream cut through the village. The family ran out from their home to find the source. A group of five, heavily armored men had emerged from the trees. A woman ran by, her startled screams continuing on. Rykus unsheathed his sword, and Kyla pulled out her greatsword, as they walked up to the men. The group tried to press on, but two more Avvar grabbed their weapons and joined the siblings.

"Move aside, barbarians! We will not hesitate to kill you too." The leader barked.

"Men, men! What is the issue here!" A smooth voice came from behind. Kyla turned and saw Duncan heading towards the scene. He placed himself in between the Avvar and the men.

"Do you templars have a reason for being here?" He asked. The leader stepped up to Duncan.

"There is an apostate here, Warden. We have been hunting him for months." He explained, but Duncan did not move.

"I have met this man you speak of, Templar. He is no maleficar, he is not a threat."

"He is an apostate! His very existence is a threat." The templar argued.

"He is a healer, and a leader to these people." Duncan reasoned. The templar scoffed,

"I care not about these beasts, Warden. The apostate has the potential to become an abomination, you know that!"

"And the abomination would not make if off the Frostbacks alive, or out of this village. Nor will you, if you attempt to kill this man, but I cannot and will not stop you for doing your duty. Do not expect the same from the Avvar." Duncan advised, and then moved out of the way. The templar sneered and ordered his men forward.

Rykus growled as the men tried to pass. He swung his sword and plunged it deep into the stomach of the closest templar. Another templar grabbed his sword and brought it down upon Rykus. He barely managed to pull up his own sword to block the attack. A few Avvar turned and ran to the Agor's hut, leaving only Rykus, Kyla, and the two others to stop the attack. Kyla brought up her greatsword to stop an oncoming attack. She pivoted and brought around the giant sword, crashing it into the weak spots in the templar's armor. A crack of bone resounded beside Kyla, as her clans-mate was struck down. She felt a twinge of anger grip her heart, but pushed it away and kept fighting. The other Avvar managed to kill another templar before being slain himself.

Kyla backed away slightly. There was still three templars standing, and only she and Rykus left fighting. Rykus gave her a small smile before rushing in at the leader. Kyla defended herself against the templar that slashed at her. Out of the corner of her eye, Kyla saw the templar leader bash Rykus with his shield, knocking him to the ground. The leader raised his sword and brought it down into Rykus's chest. The sword could have pierced Kyla chest, because she felt a similar pain tear through her very core. Rage erupted from within. She twirled her sword in her hands and stabbed it into the templar's stomach. The other templar moved towards her and was met by the end of her blade, slicing through his armor as if it was parchment instead of steel.

The templar leader sneered at Kyla as she faced him. She whipped her blade to her side and the blood of the fallen flew off of it. She then charged the leader, bringing her sword down on him, but he blocked with his shield. She gracefully dodged the swing of his sword. She thrust her blade forward, finding a weak point in the armor. The templar groaned in pain as the sword exited his body. His hand hesitated for just a moment as he had to suppress the instinct to clutch the wound. This moment was just long enough for Kyla to pivot and swipe at the templar's neck, making a clean cut. His sword fell to the ground in a clatter, followed shortly by his body.

Kyla's chest heaved in heavy breaths. A pair of hands fell upon her shoulders softly. She turned and saw her father looking down at her sorrowfully. At the sight of him, she broke and fell into his arms, tears falling freely. Slowly, the other members of the small Avvar clan emerged from their homes to view the damage. Kyla pushed herself from her father's arms and looked across the village to see the Agor and Duncan watching the scene. She walked over and acknowledged them with a bow of her head.

"I am very sorry for what happened." Duncan said, his voice truly apologetic, "I tried to warn the templars, but they are nearly impossible to stop once they have found an apostate." Kyla cast a glace back at the slain bodies.

"They obviously can be stopped." She muttered.

"Yes, for a time, but more will come."

"And next time we will be prepared." The Agor reassured. He then wrapped an arm around Kyla, "Duncan has an offer for you bayna, one you should seriously consider."

"I am recruiting for the Grey Wardens. There is an army of darkspawn growing to the south and we need the most skilled warriors to battle it. You just took on three experienced templars by yourself and survived without a scratch, which is much more than many people can say. The Wardens would benefit greatly from your joining." Duncan explained. The Agor smiled down on Kyla.

"The Wardens are very well respected, bayna. And our dwarven allies have been fighting the darkspawn underground for many centuries."

"Avvar battle training comes directly from the dwarven warriors. If there is anyone on the surface best prepared to fight the darkspawn, it is you." Duncan added. Kyla closed her eyes, absorbing the information. Leaving her clan was unthinkable; it was all she had ever known. She glanced back over and saw her clans-mates cleaning the fallen bodies. Rykus would probably want her to do it. "The honor, the glory…" He would have said. Kyla looked back to Duncan.

"I will join you, but I cannot leave yet." He nodded knowingly.

"I understand. We will leave after the funeral."

****

The next day, the three bodies of the slain Avvar lay in the center of the village, wrapped in cloths. The Agor sang an old Avvar hymn as he lit the cloths on fire. Kyla stared hard at Rykus's body in the middle. She held back the tears that burned to be shed. This was a warrior's funeral, and she would damn well act like a warrior. Smoke rose from the fire high into the air, and was blown about by the cold breeze.

"Korth accept these bodies back into the mountain. Hakkon accept their breath into the wind. Lady of the Skies accept their souls into your heavens." The Agor blessed the dead, touching his hand to his forehand, and then clapping it to his chest, over his heart. The clan followed the motion. The fire would continue to blaze for the rest of the day in mourning.

Kyla found Duncan watching the ceremony from a distance. She walked up to him.

"The Avvar have beautiful ceremonies." He commented.

"Death should be as blessed as a birth. It is a beginning of a new life." Kyla said plainly. She didn't honestly feel as though her brother was blessed to die. Rage still nested in her heart like a fire. Her father joined the group.

"Kyla, my Ptarmigan." He sighed. "This is a hard day for me. I lose my first son, and now my daughter."

"I am leaving father, I will not be gone forever." Kyla reassured him.

"Still. I want you to have this. It is a family battleaxe passed down for many generations. It was going to be a gift for you when you wed, but hopefully it will bring good fortune to your new future." He held out the axe. It was an elegant and ancient Avvar craft, supplemented by touches of dwarven design. Engraved in the handle was her clan's mark, a symbol resembling wings. The same mark that Kyla bore, tattooed on her face, forever reminding her and the world where she came from. Kyla graciously took the weapon, and gave her father a final hug goodbye. She then turned to Duncan who stretched out his arm, showing the path ahead of her.

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This is just the Origin story, but if you liked it review and let me know. If people like the idea, then I'll continue on to the rest of the game. ~amante


End file.
